Worst Case Scenario
by VioletSorceress
Summary: AU. Tokka Week. As a good friend, Sokka's visiting Toph in the hospital. But his interpretation of being a good friend is entirely different from what we see.


**Disclaimer: I do not own _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. All characters and events are a trademark of the creators and of Nickelodeon.**

**Tokka Week Day Two- Prompt Two: ****Worst Case Scenario**

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"This is Sokka with the latest updates on Toph Bei Fong's broken arm," he announced into his pencil, which was conveniently being held up like a microphone. His left hand was gripping a small blue notepad with various scribbles on its cover, most of which being little hearts around the initials of his crush—TB. He was so thankful she'd never be able to see it.

"How many times do I have to _tell_ you, breaking my _arm_ won't affect my soccer playing!" The girl was laying in a hospital bed with a cast surrounding her elevated right arm. Her ebony hair was strewn about her pillow carelessly, because quite honestly, not being able to see it—or fix it considering her dominant arm was the broken one—gave her a laid-back attitude on life.

"Sure it could!" Sokka said dramatically, with as much cheer as a fake TV host would be able to use. "If worse comes to worse, it could spread to your leg!"

She stretched out her left hand and thumped him on what she hoped was the back of his head. "It's a broken arm. That means it's _bro_-ken. Not diseased." She let out a snort and relaxed back in her spot. "Idiot," she muttered.

"Still. . . ." he pretended not to hear her remark on his intelligence. "You never know. If it _does_ spread to your leg, then you won't be able to play in our championship game. Then the college scouts won't see you playing and you won't get a scholarship. And the school will hate you _forever_!"

"Dammit, Sokka! I broke my ARM! It is not, under any circumstances, spreading to my leg!"

"All right, all right. Geez. I was just saying," he muttered in defense, holding up his hands in defeat.

Letting out a satisfied smile, she leaned back farther in her bed. "Okay, now what other interview crap did you want to ask me?"

"It is not 'interview crap,'" he exclaimed, clutching the notebook to his chest as though it was offended more than he was. "It's my only extra-curricular activity. It's an art. It's—"

"The newspaper. Honestly, I don't care," she sighed and placed her left hand to her forehead. "Just ask the questions and leave. I don't want a headache the day before my big game."

"Okay," he grinned and opened his notebook to the first blank page. "What's your favorite color?"

". . . Are you honestly asking me that?"

"Ha! Umm, that was a joke, see?" Sokka corrected himself hastily, not even knowing why he had asked that. "Okay. Erm. . . Do you think that your broken arm is going to affect your game?"

"No. Like I said, it's a broken arm. Soccer is played with my legs and feet."

"But what if it was your leg that was broken? Then what?" he asked, leaning forward.

"My leg would never be broken," she said confidently. "But if it was, then that sucks for the team. And I'd be pretty upset, too, because, like you said, the college scouts won't see my _amazing_ skills and the school would hate me forever." She shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a broken arm, though. So you shouldn't be freaking out so much before a _soccer_ game."

"And how did you break your arm in the first place?"

"That's easy. My _sweet_, _innocent_, best friend," she gave a meaningful look toward his stomach, which was, of course, not the direction she was aiming it at, "threw a basketball at me and I fell."

Sokka laughed nervously, fumbling with his notebook as he recalled the horrible cracking noise her arm made when she landed on it. "So. . . Who are you taking to the dance afterward?"

Every year, after the soccer tournaments were over, their high school would host a dance for the students. Originally, it was meant for attracting people to the game, but as times changed, so did the people. Now, the dance was the most popular social event the school could ever come up with.

She blushed, lowering her head so that her eyes would be focused downward and away from him. "What kind of question is that?"

He shrugged before realizing, and remembering, that she couldn't see it. "Dunno. I'm just asking what I'm given." Which was not entirely true. He was asking questions he wanted to know the answers to and questions the school wanted to know the answers to. Two completely different things.

"Oh. Well, that's my business."

"Aww, c'mon, Toph! You don't want me, your best friend in the _whole_ _entire_ world, losing his job on the newspaper, do you?" He pleaded with her as though his life depended on it.

"Fine," she gave in quickly, but only because she hated when he begged and pouted. "I was kind of. . . hoping that. . . this certain guy. . . would ask me. . . ." Toph chose her words carefully, hoping that he would catch her point but that the students reading the interview when it was published wouldn't.

"What?" he shrieked, nearly knocking over a nearby vase. "Who is it? What guy are you talking about? Since when do you have a crush?"

Groaning, she faced his direction and asked, "Why do I get the feeling that this wasn't meant for the newspaper?"

"It was," he answered quickly, smiling innocently. "I was just curious afterward."

"Right. So. Moving along, then."

"No!" Sokka cried out desperately, not noticing the smirk on his comrade's lips. "I just want to know who. You know. As details."

"Well," she started, beginning to enjoy the game. "He's tall. And smart in his good moments. He's kind of brave, I guess. And—"

"You know what?" he laughed hollowly, tired of the description already. "You can date this guy as much as you want. I'll be fine with that."

She stuck out her tongue thoughtfully, "I'm sure you would be. Any other questions, then?" He'd ask her when he was ready. . .

"Yeah. Will you go to the dance with me?" . . . And apparently he was ready at that exact moment.

"Umm. . . Okay." She was proud of herself for remaining calm. Sokka, on the other hand, he was jumping around the room.

"I got me a date!" he sang, skipping around the room. "And I got a date with Toph Bei Fong! Yeah!" He pumped his fist in the air victoriously.

"I hate to interrupt your happiness," she laughed, "but visiting hours are almost over. Did you want to ask any more questions?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." He pulled out his notebook again. "Do you have any tips for aspiring soccer players?"

"Of course." Toph smirked in his general direction—meaning the curtains by the window, "If your friend breaks your arm, don't worry about it. It's not _diseased_ so you won't _die_."

"And that's all the time we have for today," he closed his notebook quickly, noting the hostile attitude of his friend. "Join us next time on—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Her hand waved at him dismissively.

"Well," he mocked gasping before walking over to his friend and sitting on the edge of her bed, directly by her side. "Since you're my date for tomorrow night, I think I'll just. . . ."

The boy leaned in closer to her, kissing her softly on the cheek.

She smiled and blushed, grabbing his shirt collar with her left hand and pulling him in closer to her to kiss him again.

The door swung open. "Visiting hours are up!"

And the voice that screeched surprised Sokka so much that he jumped. The sudden movement made his arms swing, which caused him to push Toph. . .

. . . Directly off the bed.

Her arms—well, arm, actually, since the one in the cast wasn't going to do her any good—flailed rapidly as she tried to catch herself, but it was too fast for her to do anything.

The loud cracking noise emitted from her leg was enough to tell the nurse what had happened. As the woman ran off to get some help, Sokka peered over the edge of the bed and smiled innocently at her.

"Sorry?" And he was. Really.

"I'm. . . ." she grimaced as she tried to move her leg, "gonna. . . get you. . . for this. . . ."

"Heh heh heh, yeah. . . ." He jumped off the bed and sprinted out of her room just as the other nurses finally made it inside it. They were all helping Toph back onto the bed when Sokka reappeared in the doorway.

"Are you still my date for the dance?"

She growled at him. "Get. OUT!"

He nodded quickly before scampering from the room and calling out, "I'll take that as a yes!"

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**This is as far from a worst case scenario as it can get, but this prompt was hard for me to write. I had ideas, but a lot of people used them (or mentioned them) already in some way, so I didn't want to copy. Plus, my one idea started getting messed up halfway through.**

**So after ten minutes of thinking and an hour of writing, I came up with this. It's a horrible attempt at humor in AU form, I know. And it really seems unfinished ('cuz the ending sucked and was really rushed). But this is all I could come up with. -is embarrassed- On the brighter side, I actually have an idea for tomorrow's prompt.**

**I hope you enjoyed this fic-thing. Lemme know in one of them reviews, eh? XD**

**-Sophia**


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